


Rough Rider

by ThayerKerbasy



Series: The Misadventures of Growley and Squirrel [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cowboys & Cowgirls, Demon Dean, Demonic Possession, Dubious Consent, F/M, Light Bondage, M/M, Mark of Cain, Multi, Oral Sex, POV Crowley, Post-Episode: s09e23 Do You Believe In Miracles?, Pre-Episode: s10e01 Black, Smut, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2019-02-01 15:22:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12707646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThayerKerbasy/pseuds/ThayerKerbasy
Summary: A week after their entertaining evening with the triplets, Dean was showing signs of dissatisfaction.  Fortunately, Crowley had a plan or two.  While cheap beer and a rodeo wasn't Crowley's cup of tea, he had to admit there were other delights to enjoy in a rodeo town beyond the captivating sight of Dean in a cowboy hat.





	Rough Rider

**Author's Note:**

> To my regular readers of this series, you've waited patiently for so long. Thank you for your patience.
> 
> Huge thanks also go out to [grey2510](https://archiveofourown.org/users/grey2510) for being the best beta every single time, and to [braezenkitty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/braezenkitty) for their wonderful suggestions.

Crowley sat in a cheap folding lawn chair on a grassy hillside, questioning the sequence of life choices that had led him there. He had only wanted to escape the monotony of spending every single day in the same awful bar, but the things Dean would agree to were on a very short list. Since becoming a demon, it seemed the things that interested Dean boiled down to cheap booze, greasy food, and attachment-free hookups. After Dean shot down all of Crowley’s other suggestions, he had managed to sell the last one by guaranteeing at least two out of three of Dean’s new priorities.

The mingled aromas of meat, dirt, and excrement wafted past his extraordinarily perceptive nose. Crowley had been resisting the green Coleman cooler of beer on the ground between them, but he would take anything that could overpower that unpleasantly familiar cocktail of odours. Materializing a glass of Craig — while undoubtedly satisfying — would have drawn undue attention, and Dean still wanted to pass as human for some unfathomable reason. Most days, Crowley didn’t mind, but most days didn’t smell like the pre-industrial era. At least the beer from the cooler was reasonably chilled and better than the swill back then.

The first sip was barely past his lips before Dean smirked and said, “Knew you’d join me eventually.”

Crowley refused to give him the satisfaction. “Scotch isn’t exactly the drink for a rodeo, now is it?”

“Not just any rodeo, it’s Cowboy Christmas!” replied Dean, as if Crowley hadn’t been the one to talk him into going.

Since that lovely overnight with the triplets, days had returned to their former monotony. Beer, billiards, foosball, darts, and, on Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday, karaoke. The only change was that ever since the triplets, Dean had consistently been striking out when it came to finding a bed partner for the night. The Black Spur had its fair share of regular patrons, so after a few days it was difficult for Dean to find someone new to attempt. Crowley would forever deny having anything to do with those failures, but he could easily see that the women saw he and Dean as a couple looking for a third. In a way, it was gratifying, but if they were a couple, Crowley was getting none of the benefits and all of the headache. Crowley’s bed had been as empty as Dean’s for the past week.

Raising his beer, Crowley said, “Then Happy Christmas to you, I suppose.”

Dean touched his beer bottle to Crowley’s. “Happy fuckin’ Christmas.” 

He took a long pull from the bottle, tipping his head back and giving Crowley an excellent view of his throat as he swallowed. From the bottom of the hill came the voice of the announcer introducing the next rider. Crowley didn’t care. They were all idiots courting serious harm for the chance at prize money none of them truly needed. He gave Dean his full attention and imagined those plush lips being put to better use.

Lowering the bottle to his thigh, Dean adjusted his hat and watched the rider go through the standard safety precautions. Crowley couldn’t find it in him to regret the hats. He knew his own looked out of place, since he refused to change his outfit, but seeing Dean in a cowboy hat more than made up for it. Part of him wanted to coax Dean into a decent suit that was properly tailored to him, but the rest of him would never seriously suggest it, simply because his wardrobe was one of the many little things that made Dean who he was. The hat looked good on him in precisely the same way.

The noise from the arena grew louder, so Crowley looked down just in time to see the bull leave the chute with a rider on his back. Roughly five seconds passed before the bull managed to dislodge his rider, who rolled away to safety while others wrangled the bull. Crowley gave a derisive snort and said, “All foreplay and a five second finish. This is a sport for teenage boys.”

Dean chuckled and replied, “Too bad it was too late to enter when we got here. That prize money would’ve been all mine.”

“Of course, because it would have been entirely fair to pit your newly revitalized self against these highly-trained strapping young lads.”

“You really think I couldn’t have taken those guys?”

“Oh, I think you could have taken them quite handily. I have no doubt you’re a better rider than at least half of those louts. But to do so in public might get you arrested under certain indecency laws.”

If it had been the old Dean, he might have given a sarcastic smile or an exasperated eyeroll at the innuendo. Instead, demonic Dean shrugged and said, “Worth it, though.”

Crowley wasn’t sure which he preferred, but as it was the demon sitting beside him, it was a moot point. Nodding non-committally, he took a sip of his beer in lieu of a response, taking a moment to appreciate Dean’s foresight in stopping to buy beer and ice for the cooler. He shuddered to think of the swill for sale by the cup.

At the bottom of the hill, the five second cowboy had safely exited the arena, as had his bull, herded by a few skilled handlers. A new bull was already in the chute awaiting his rider while the announcer cheerfully rambled on to entertain the crowd. Adjusting his hat to better shade his face, Crowley leaned back into his chair and closed his eyes.

Several riders claimed their scant few seconds of fame while Crowley relaxed and drank his (admittedly not terrible) beer. He was able to listen to the announcer, so he could follow each little micro saga. The July sunshine beamed down on his black suit, holding the heat next to his skin and warming him through. He was definitely working on making the best of the situation.

When the crowd got excited, he opened his eyes a crack to see what all the fuss was about. What he saw made him sit up and pay attention. The rider, upon being dismounted, had gotten his hand stuck in the ropes tied around the bull’s body which riders used to hold on. Previous riders had all been able to slip free easily, but the unlucky fellow must have had his hand too far under the rope to be able to let go when he was thrown. With his fingers stuck, he slid down the bull’s side where he was thrown about as the animal continued to buck in an attempt to be free of him.

In his peripheral vision, Crowley saw Dean lean forward in his chair. A quick glance let him see Dean’s eager smile and a vicious gleam in his currently-black eyes. In stark contrast to the human Dean Winchester — the man who risked his life daily to save people he had never met — it seemed demon Dean enjoyed the thought of a man being trampled to death.

It didn’t happen, of course. As soon as the man was unseated, three other brightly-garbed men came running to distract the bull. While the rider was tossed about, trying to free his fingers, the other men worked on trying to get the bull under control. In a matter of seconds, the rider fell to the ground and the bull was herded out, leaving the fallen rider to catch his breath.

Turning to Dean, Crowley slowly smiled and said, “I begin to see why you enjoy this.”

Dean answered the smile with a smirk of his own, raised his beer and clinked the bottle against Crowley’s. “It’s gonna be a _good_ day.”

Nobody else got hung up on a bull, but one man got his spur stuck while being unhorsed. By the time the rodeo was over, both Dean and Crowley were cheering for the animals. Their unusual allegiances went totally unnoticed, since the rest of the people were loudly cheering for the riders.

Between the two of them, they easily drank the dozen beers they brought with them. Crowley was unwilling to go so far as to drink whatever was being sold on site, so he went without for the last half hour. Dean, on the other hand, quite happily drank the local swill while watching as horse-mounted riders chased down a bull, dropped off the horse, and wrestled the bull by its horns.

The last bull went down, the official waved a flag, and the judges compared notes. While the rest of the spectators eagerly awaited the results, Dean and Crowley exchanged a look, folded up their chairs, and carried the cooler and chairs back to the parked Impala. They had already seen what they came for.

While loading the chairs and cooler back in the car, Dean said, “I know I said we’d just stick around for the rodeo, but I saw a place on the way in that I wanna check out.”

Crowley shrugged. “We’re howling at the moon aren’t we? So? Let’s howl.”

* * *

In a town known for rodeo, it was little surprise to find the place was a bar called the Bronco Bar. From the outside, it looked like the set of every cheap Western movie from the early 20th century. The bar was actually a bar and grill, so the front of the restaurant bore a sign reading “Bronco’s”, and there was a separate door to the bar which looked like it belonged to a different building and had a sign reading “Saloon”. Next door to the saloon was an attached building labeled “Dance Hall”, which might or might not have been associated with the other two.

Dean parked the car after finally finding a space near the back of the building, since the majority of the lot had been cordoned off for some sort of event. A stage off to the side of the “dance hall” had a crowd of busy people around it setting up what looked like sound equipment. Unsure which of Dean’s new priorities he was there to satisfy, Crowley waited for Dean to choose a door. Without hesitation, Dean strode over to the “saloon” and Crowley followed.

Mercifully, the interior looked nothing like the exterior. Warm polished wood and an array of hunting trophies continued the Western motif, but there was nothing old fashioned about the big screen TV mounted on the wall behind the bar. A luscious blonde woman behind the bar wore a Bronco Bar t-shirt and form-fitting jeans. If there had been space at the bar, Crowley would have laid money on Dean attempting to seduce her before the night was through, but every stool was already occupied by a denim-clad backside.

Not quite every table was claimed yet, but it was a near thing. Because there were only two of them, they ended up at a table where some of the chairs had been claimed by the over-large party at the table beside theirs. An overworked waitress stopped by to get their drink order, and before Crowley could request anything decent, Dean said, “Get us a couple beers. Whatever you think is the best stuff you’ve got on tap.”

The poor girl obviously just wanted him to make up his mind so she could get on with her job, but she plastered on a smile and said, “Folks ‘round these parts swear by El Burro. That alright by you?”

Dean, apparently oblivious to the waitress’ annoyance, replied, “Sure thing, beautiful. If you think it’s good, I’ll try anything once.”

To her credit, she managed to keep smiling at least until she turned to leave. Privately, Crowley thought they would likely have to order their next round at the bar, or at least flag down a different server. On the bright side, that would allow him to order something else without rocking the boat.

Waiting until the girl was gone, Crowley said, “You know that girl can’t respond to your overtures while she’s working, right? Even if she _were_ interested — which, no, she’s not — she couldn’t do a thing about it until after her shift is over, which I would assume is closing time. Are you seriously going to dedicate your efforts to the unattainable, or would you perhaps like to direct your attention elsewhere?”

Eyebrows furrowed, Dean raised his head, lips pursed so his dimples showed. “Well hell, Romeo, if you’re so sure, you got someone else in mind?”

Crowley hadn’t considered alternatives, so he slowly scanned around the room. The people at the bar were the usual professional drinkers interested in nothing much beyond the oblivion to be found at the bottom of a bottle. By contrast, every table was full of happy people talking excitedly. A poster on the notice board held the explanation.

_Celebrate our beautiful town’s 100th birthday with us!_

_From Wednesday July the 2nd to Saturday July the 5th, enjoy a series of free concerts under the stars. Dance the night away beginning at 9 pm in the parking lot of the Bronco Bar with a different concert each night._

There was more about various other entertainments, but Crowley glossed over those. The free concert explained the packed bar full of excited people and the roped off lot. He wasn’t particularly interested in finding Dean a substitute target, but he wasn’t about to admit that, so he held up his index finger and kept looking.

Several groups of young women discussing the attractive features of the night’s music act, some mixed groups of men and women who appeared to be paired off, a group of young men talking about their _obvious_ musical talent in an attempt to impress their girlfriends, and no one who looked like they might possibly welcome company. Their server returned with two mugs of beer and said, “I’ll be back ‘round in a bit if you gentlemen need a refill.”

Accepting his beer with a smile, Crowley returned to scanning the crowd immediately after, in an attempt to keep Dean from further embarrassing himself. The serving girl had just left their table when movement near the door caught Crowley’s eye. Standing all by her lonesome was a pretty young thing, must have been mid- to late-twenties, dressed in a plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up and jeans that hugged her soft curves. Her long coppery hair hung in a plait over one shoulder and was partly covered by the hat she wore which had probably come from the same store as their own.

The new arrival searched the room with her eyes, eventually sighing, shoulders slumped. Her second search was much quicker, and her eyes alighted on Dean and Crowley’s table. Squaring her shoulders, she smiled wryly and set off in their direction.

Crowley flashed Dean a sly smile. “Don’t look now, but I think your decision may have been made for you.”

Of course he looked. Dean watched the woman approach their table, a predatory gleam in his eyes. The woman gave them both a once over, her lips curving up as she reached them. “Excuse me, gentlemen, I can’t help but notice that your table is the only one with space. Mind if I pull up a chair?”

Dean leaned back in his chair and picked up his beer. “Sure thing, sweetheart.”

As he had just looked over the entire room, Crowley located the nearest chair without even thinking about it, nudging it with a wisp of power until it was close enough for him to grab easily. Sparing half a second to wonder why he was facilitating this, he mentally shrugged and slid the chair over. “Who are we to deny a vision of loveliness?”

“Who, me?” the girl chuckled while questioning her own attractiveness, but she took the chair all the same. “I’m not even dressed up.”

“You look more than fine,” said Dean.

“Some people have a beauty that transcends clothing,” added Crowley. “Hello darling, I’m Crowley and this is Dean.”

“Dean, Crowley,” she nodded at each as she repeated the names. “That’s an interesting name, Crowley. I’m Randi.”

Dean grinned, “Randi. I like.”

Her smile brightened her whole face. “Thanks. It’s short for Miranda, which I really don’t like.”

Crowley gave a half shrug and a nod. “The names we choose for ourselves mean so much more than the ones that are chosen for us.”

With a scoff, Dean said, “Then what the hell does it mean that you go by Crowley?”

“Hey,” replied Randi, “lots of people choose to go by their last names. I mean, I know someone who goes by Price because her first name is Gretchen and she absolutely hates it. And there’s a guy I know who keeps insisting people call him by his last name just because it’s Anderson and he thinks it’s hilarious.”

Dean was looking at him expectantly, undoubtedly because he knew the name Crowley had borne in life. He was waiting to hear the real story, and it meant a lot to Crowley that he not lie to Dean during their fresh start, but there were some illusions that should never be shattered. Mustering up his most sympathetic smile, Crowley said, “I feel for your friend, Price. Let’s just say, my mother had similarly awful taste in names.”

Huffing a laugh, Dean lifted his beer to take a drink. Pausing with his mug raised, he said, “Fergus.”

Rather than laugh, Randi grimaced. “I don’t blame you. I think I’d go by Crowley, too.”

Crowley gave her a wry smile and reached for his own beer, reminding him that Randi still didn’t have one. “Oh, you might need to flag down a server. She’s already been by and probably didn’t plan on coming back any time soon.”

Returning his smile, Randi stood and waved until she caught the bartender’s attention. She then pointed at Crowley’s beer, mimed drinking one, then pointed to herself. The barkeep grinned, nodded, and held up a finger to suggest waiting a moment. Randi nodded in return and reclaimed her seat. In response to the unasked question, she said, “I know the bartender.”

“Heh, then I guess it’d be pretty cheesy to ask if you come here often,” said Dean.

She laughed at that, a rich and genuine laugh that didn’t hide things, and replied, “Actually, I don’t. Christie — that is, the bartender — thinks it’s weird when people come just to hang out with her. My other friends keep asking me to go drinking with them here, and most of the time I can’t be bothered. I was going to meet them here for the concert tonight, but I guess they didn’t show.”

Crowley took a sip of his beer. It wasn’t _awful_ , but that was perhaps the best thing that could be said of it. Telling someone “I’m sorry your friends ditched you, but you can drink with us” also wasn’t exactly awful, but it was certainly creepy coming from two unattached men. Crowley planned to avoid being that guy.

Apparently Dean didn’t have a problem being that guy. “That sucks. We really didn’t have any plans to see the concert, but it’s right outside if you wanna go. If you don’t care about the concert, you’re more than welcome to stick with us.”

Randi cast a discerning eye over the both of them, then pursed her lips and nodded. “Yeah, I think I could handle ditching the concert for you two. It’s not like I even know the guys playing out there, I just came to hang out with friends. Matter of fact…”

Trailing off, she dug into her denim purse and came up with a phone. While tapping the screen, she asked, “Mind if I take your picture? I’d like to gloat a little, maybe let my friends see how much I don’t need them tonight.”

Crowley smirked and said, “Revenge is a good reason for just about anything. I’m game if Dean is.”

“Oh, I’m game alright,” Dean replied. “Let’s show ‘em what they’re missing.”

“Matter of fact,” Crowley added, “how about you take one on my phone as well, if you don’t mind. Can’t say I’ve yet mastered the art of the selfie and I’d love to have a half-decent picture of the two of us.”

So saying, he unlocked his phone, brought up the camera, and slid it across the table to Randi, who grinned impishly. “I’m half tempted to look through your pictures. I won’t, but the temptation is there.”

Crowley chuckled. “That’s likely for the best. My gallery is not for the faint of heart.”

Finger hovering over the phones on the table, Randi said, “And now I’m more tempted. I’m a radiologist, I’ve been through med school, there isn’t much I haven’t seen.”

“Yeeeaaahhh, he’s kinda exaggerating,” said Dean. “You still don’t wanna see his pics, but the last picture I saw him take was of me singing karaoke.”

“Oh fine, ruin my mystique why don’t you,” Crowley grumbled.

Chuckling, Randi picked up a phone and flipped it to landscape. “Right then, squeeze into the frame, boys, and show me some smiles.”

Crowley lifted his beer mug and gave a “don’t you wish you were here” smile, while Dean grabbed his shoulder and pointed at him, though he couldn’t see Dean’s face. Tapping the screen a couple times, Randi then switched phones. “Alright, now for mine.”

“Wait, that wasn’t the one for your friends?” Dean asked.

“Nope, that was for Crowley’s risque album,” replied Randi as she raised her own phone. “Alright, show my friends what they’re missing.”

“Well then, in that case…” Dean lifted his mug to take a drink and made bedroom eyes at the camera. As Randi tapped the screen, Crowley leaned in and licked Dean’s face.

Dean’s reaction was everything he could have hoped for, turning to face him with a grimace. “What the fuck, Crowley?”

Randi doubled over giggling, at which point their waitress returned with Randi’s beer. Holding the edge of the table for support, she gasped out, “Thanks.”

Satisfied with her reaction, Crowley reached across the table to reclaim his phone. A tap of his thumb brought up the photo and he smiled. He had nailed the “wish you were here” pose while Dean had pulled off a flawless “check out this guy” with what looked like a genuine smile. Was it genuine? It had been a good day, everything had gone right — besides getting shot down by the waitress — which meant Dean was likely in a good mood. He wanted to think it was a legitimate smile from someone enjoying his company.

Across the table from him, Randi took a deep breath, exhaled, and grinned, visibly restraining the urge to dissolve into further giggles. Crowley could have easily tipped her over the edge again, but that wasn’t his goal, so he quietly sipped his (disappointing) beer and averted his gaze. A glance at Dean showed him doing the same, which resulted in Randi clapping a hand over her mouth.

Finally, she stood and turned around entirely, taking her phone with her. Facing the wall, she took deep breaths and tapped at her phone. Crowley took the opportunity to add the new photo to the Flickr album he had created the week before. It was probably his favourite photo of the lot thus far by virtue of being the only good photo with the both of them in the frame.

Dean, meanwhile, drained his beer and tried flagging down the waitress for another, but she was having none of it. Without a word, he stood and brought his empty mug to the bar. Out of the corner of his eye, Crowley watched him pay the bartender directly for another beer rather than wait for their waitress to push the limits of ignoring them.

Randi reclaimed her seat with the hint of a smile still lurking on her lips, though that faded when she noticed Dean’s empty chair. “Where’d your handsome friend go?”

Of course. The one time he lowered his guard and it was still Dean’s stunning good looks and devil may care attitude they fell for. He couldn’t really blame her though, since Dean was physically perfect and a thrilling challenge. Honestly, he should have expected it.

With a wave of his hand and a twitch of his index finger, Crowley indicated where Dean stood at the bar undoubtedly striking out with the bartender. “Apparently he particularly enjoys your local El Burro and felt the immediate need for a refill. A need which our assigned server felt no inclination to attend to, given that she is avoiding our table when possible. He should return after your friend refuses to respond to his flirtations.”

Randi’s face fell. “Damn. And here I thought he was into me.” She slipped her phone back into her bag. “I just sent my friend that pic and said, “Look how delicious he is” to which she said, “I dunno, they both look pretty delicious” and I was like, “Yeah, I know, it’s going to be a damn good night” but now…”

She trailed off and reached up a hand to toy with her plaited hair. “I had hoped to have my own little rodeo with just the three of us. Think you can handle being the only bronco?”

That…was not what Crowley had expected to hear. As satisfying as it might have seemed to snatch Dean’s conquest out from under his nose, he didn’t intend to jeopardize three weeks invested in awful beer for a single roll in the hay. He had a plan, and no matter how many times the plan changed, he intended to see it through to the goal.

Leaning forward, one arm on the table, Crowley smiled that flirty smile that served him so well. “Why settle for one when you can have both? Patience, sweetheart. Dean is merely incapable of talking without flirting.” He glanced over at the bar and smirked. “There, what did I tell you, he’s on his way back now.”

Wonder of wonders, Randi leaned forward and licked her lips. “Good. He needs to catch up to you, ‘cause right now, you’re the prize-winning stallion.”

Eyebrows raised, Crowley raised his mug and said, “Challenge accepted.”

Dean returned to the two of them grinning at each other as they clinked their mugs together and drank. Glancing from Crowley to Randi, Dean asked, “Uh…what’d I miss?”

Setting his mug on the table, Crowley allowed his tongue to chase the foam from his lips and was gratified when Dean’s eyes dropped to his mouth. “We have been issued a challenge,” said Crowley. “The lady would like us to compete for her affections, the reward for which is…”

He deliberately trailed off and allowed Randi to finish, “The winner gets to be my mount for a private little rodeo.”

“I like the way you think,” replied Dean. “So, what’s Crowley get when he loses?”

Refusing to rise to the bait, Crowley tucked his phone back in his jacket pocket and smiled to himself. A dozen new opportunities lay before him thanks to Randi’s little game, and he quietly ran down all of them in his head: best and worst case scenarios for each possibility and how to best turn the worst case to his advantage.

While Crowley pondered his options, Randi gave Dean a once-over glance and said, “Oh no, you’ve got it all wrong. See Dean, right now? Crowley’s winning.”

Dean huffed a laugh. “ _Crowley?_ You’d rather play cowgirl with _him_ as your horse? What is it? Is it the suit or the beard? No wait, it’s the accent, isn’t it?”

She giggled again and that time Crowley got to see the mirth twinkling in her olive green eyes. “All of a sudden you’re not so sure of yourself, are you? Good. It’ll be much more fun if you actually try.” Then, glancing between them both, she continued, “I haven’t decided what you’ll get when you lose, Dean. Show me a good time and I’ll return the favour.”

With Dean staring at Randi in disbelief, Crowley was free to grin delightedly without reproach. Of all the possibilities on offer, things were looking promising.

* * *

Drinks were had, words exchanged, and in the end all three gave in and joined the crowd outside to dance. In retrospect, Crowley decided it was likely the dancing — or lack thereof — that had demoted him to second place. If he had been trying to win, he would have, but there were some sacrifices he refused to make and dancing to the abomination being passed off as music was one of those things.

After far too much countrified rock, Randi abruptly stopped and spoke directly in Dean’s ear, presumably so she could be heard above the music. She then grabbed him by the arm and dragged him over to where Crowley stood against a wall. Dean followed, unresisting, with a grin plastered on his face.

With a smile curving her lips, Randi put her hands on the wall to either side of Crowley, leaned in close and said, “Let’s go, cowboy. It’s rodeo time.”

The news couldn’t have been more welcome, as Crowley had been close to killing the lead guitarist, which likely would have put a damper on the evening. His eyes traced a path over her body, then met her gaze with a wicked grin and he said, “Giddy up, cowgirl.”

He allowed her to pull him away from the wall, guiding him with one hand and Dean with the other around to the back of the building. The music wasn’t quite so loud there, so they were able to make out the directions Randi gave to a local hotel. Crowley would have preferred a higher quality establishment, but the girl had decided she was in control of the evening, and it tickled him to permit it.

She drove her own car, refusing the ride Dean offered, and Crowley approved. Honestly, Sparky probably needed to take lessons from her, since he obviously had a problem managing a safe hookup without his brothers. It hadn’t escaped Crowley’s notice that Randi had sent a friend their photo along with hints at their intended nocturnal activities, meaning if anything happened to her, there would be a record of it all. Clever girl had quite neatly set things up to protect herself, which made Crowley smile. There was nothing he enjoyed quite so much as competence.

The directions were simple and it was a brief ten minute drive to the hotel, during which Dean said nothing but hummed a little off-key rendition of one of the songs the band had played earlier. Since Dean obviously didn’t feel like talking, Crowley took the opportunity to admire the angles of his face in the passing streetlights.

The sign outside the hotel proclaimed it the Mountainside Hotel and promised “air conditioning, free wifi, free breakfast”. The parking lot was nearly full, which was hardly surprising given the date. Dean parked the Impala in an empty space between a pickup truck and a four door sedan that looked like it had seen many a road trip, and Crowley was left to wonder whether Dean gave a damn about the car anymore.

Randi waited for them in the lobby holding a pair of key cards. The man behind the desk barely looked up when the door opened, returning quickly to what was probably Twitter on the three year old desktop computer. A quick scan of the lobby showed a two star hotel at best. It was certainly no Ritz-Carlton, but it was easily several steps up from the motels usually occupied by the Winchesters in their travels.

Spotting them, Randi turned and strode off down the hall, presumably in the direction of their room. Exchanging a glance, Crowley and Dean followed her, though not before double-checking the placement of their hidden weapons. Crowley didn’t miss the restrained hunger in Dean’s eyes when his fingers brushed the First Blade’s handle at the small of his back.

The door to room 104 was open with Randi standing in the doorway, her back against the door and one booted foot against the wall. “Howdy, boys,” she said. “Who wants to help me get these off?”

Dean ran a hand down her thigh and over her knee, hooking two fingers in the top of her boot. “I’d love to help you get off…your boots.”

They stared into each others eyes while Dean slipped the boot off, one hand caressing the back of her calf as he went. Crowley, meanwhile, was stuck in the corridor watching, unable to get past them to even enter the room. He was hundreds of years old, though, and capable of patience neither of them could dream of. Leaning against the wall, he waited.

When Dean finished with the other boot, Randi fisted a hand in his blue plaid shirt and playfully dragged him into the room with her, leaving Crowley to follow. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Crowley ambled along behind them, then leaned up against the nearest wall facing the king sized bed.

Dean and Randi worked to undo each other's shirt buttons, but kept interrupting each other with sloppy kisses. They really were a matched set with their denim and plaid, cowboy hats, fair hair, and freckles. If it had been anyone else, Crowley could have contentedly enjoyed watching the live porn. As it was, he waited.

It wasn’t until they had stripped out of their shirts and moved on to unbuttoning jeans that Randi stopped and said, “Crowley, why aren’t you over here? I wanted both of you, dammit.”

Dean kept working on unbuttoning her jeans, so Crowley said, “Dean, am I welcome to join in?”

Yanking the last button through the buttonhole, Dean slid his hands under the denim to cup Randi’s backside and pull her closer. Crowley had to repeat Dean’s name before he replied, “What? No, you can wait your turn, man. If she still wants more after I’m done with her, that is.”

Randi disentangled herself from Dean and stepped back. “You know, just for that, I think _you_ get to wait. This is my hotel room, and I invited you _both_ here to play. I was going to have both of you at once, but if you can’t play nice, then maybe you can just watch until I feel like giving you a go.”

For a moment, Crowley wasn’t sure which way Dean was going to go. Out of all his plans, there was a “Dean kills the girl in a fit of rage” plan, but it was certainly near the bottom of the list in terms of what Crowley wanted to happen. Then Dean held up his hands and took a step back, a smile playing about his lips as he said, “Go on then. You play, I’ll watch. I can wait.”

With a huff of a disbelieving laugh, Randi shook her head. “You’d rather wait than share. Unbelievable.” She crossed the room to where Crowley stood, slid her hand over his chest and worked on loosening his tie. “You’re overdressed, cowboy. You need to catch up.”

Keeping his eyes on Dean, Crowley smirked and waited until she had removed his tie before unbuttoning his own shirt. He then leaned forward and kissed those luscious lips that had been vying for his attention all evening. It had been entirely too long since he’d had a woman and he had almost forgotten how soft they were.

He shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over the room’s only chair, then untucked his shirt and did the same with it. Randi watched him, lust warring with amusement on her face, then said, “You’re the first man I’ve ever met who’s taken care of his clothes like that. Most of them are quite happy to just drop it all on the floor.”

His hands moved to his belt, which he unbuckled slowly. “I happen to be a person who appreciates quality.” 

Leaving his belt dangling undone, he unfastened his trousers, stepped out of them, and hung them on the chair, making certain there were no wrinkles. Atop it all, he set his hat. Returning his attention to Randi, he slid his fingertips over the curves of her waist and continued, “And I know that quality deserves to be treated with care.”

She was the one who leaned in then and met his lips with hers, kissing him soundly while she worked her jeans down over her hips, only pulling away when she needed to bend down to peel the denim down her calves and over her feet, removing socks in the bargain. From the corner of the room by the bed, Dean said, “I know quality, too, and that is one hell of a quality ass.”

Straightening up, Randi balled up her jeans and tossed them at Dean, though they fell short. “You just don’t know when to quit, do you?”

Dean stood in the corner, stripped down to nothing but his skivvies and cowboy hat, and propped against the wall in all his nearly naked glory like a demonic centerfold. The First Blade was undoubtedly carefully covered up in the heap of denim on the floor by his feet. His lips curved in a playful smirk as he replied, “I just said you had a quality ass, that’s all. Seemed like it deserved appreciating.”

Keeping her eyes on Dean, Randi backed up and rubbed her panty-clad backside against Crowley’s groin, red cotton sliding over red satin. Crowley made no effort to stifle the appreciative sounds which she evoked. Her hands reached back to caress his thighs. “Seems like Crowley’s doing a great job appreciating my quality ass.”

Crowley ran his fingers over her hips and back and up where he paused to unhook her lacy black bra which she slipped off and dropped on the chair. Thus unhindered, he allowed his hands to roam freely over her naked skin, thoroughly appreciating every inch of it. From the corner came a low whistle, which they both ignored.

Cupping her perfect breasts in his hands, Crowley stroked her nipples to hardness with his thumbs. The accelerated beating of her heart was clearly audible to his demonic hearing, not that he needed that to know she was enjoying herself, as she certainly wasn’t shy about making noise. Releasing her breasts, his hands slid down over her belly, then skirted lightly over her knickers down to the tops of her thighs.

She straightened up and turned around in his arms, so his hands moved to cup her “quality ass”. Crowley could find no fault with Dean’s assessment, though he wasn’t going to say so. There was a joke to be made there about assets, but Crowley was enough of a gentleman to resist the urge.

Pressing her body against his, Randi kissed him once, softly, then caught up his bottom lip between her teeth and dragged lightly back, stepping back as she released him. Her bare feet carried her back towards the bed and her index finger crooked to beckon him to her.

Far be it from him to refuse such an invitation. Randi hung her hat on the bedpost, made herself comfortable on the bed, then reached over to where her purse sat on the night table and withdrew a few brightly wrapped condoms. Dropping all but one on the little table, she offered the last up to Crowley and said, “I’ll give it to you now, but I’d like you to use your tongue on me first.”

He set the little thing with its mates on the table, then set about peeling off her last article of clothing, the fragrant damp patch betraying her eagerness. Tossing them behind him onto the chair, he then parted her legs to kneel between them. The fragrance of her nethers was enticing, and he needed no coaxing to unfold her petals with a gentle finger.

She gasped softly and he smiled. Parting her with his thumbs, Crowley slid his tongue inside her waiting hole, then licked up to her tiny hidden pearl. She tasted as sweet as she smelled. His tongue swiped over her, long and slow, pausing to swirl around her clit before plunging back down to begin again. He took his time, fully aware of Randi’s increasing satisfaction and Dean’s growing agitation.

Dean had abandoned his corner and instead stalked the room. Over to the window, back to the foot of the bed, until he finally moved things from the chair to the desk so he had a place to sit. Though Crowley couldn’t see any of it, he could hear Dean’s every action, and it was gratifying.

Randi moaned, then pushed his face away and said, “Dammit, you’re too good. Suit up so I can ride you.”

While Crowley had no desire to subject his willy to a latex overcoat, he also had no desire to spawn a wildcard antichrist who couldn’t be tamed, so he did as she said. Randi watched his fingers with wide eyes and raised eyebrows. When he was done and she still hadn’t moved, he said, “For you to ride me, you’re going to have to get up, sweetheart.”

She smiled faintly and rose. “That’s, uh, wow. You know, I guess I chose well, since you’re hung like a goddamn horse.”

Settling himself into the space Randi had vacated, Crowley took the opportunity to meet Dean’s eyes, then returned Randi’s smile. “Well then, tonight it’s all yours. Mount up, cowgirl.”

From the chair, Dean watched, his face inscrutable. Randi took a deep breath, then positioned herself over Crowley’s cock. Her hand closed around his length and guided him to her waiting entrance, taking him in slowly. Her wet heat engulfed him inch by inch and even muted by thrice damned latex, it was lovely.

About halfway down his cock, she paused, raised herself back up, then took him deeper. With a few inches left to go, she leaned forward and grabbed onto the headboard to shag him in earnest, never going any deeper. It hardly took anything at all before a moan was dragged out of her and she pulsed around him.

While she was still riding out her orgasm, Crowley withdrew from her and flipped her onto her back. Reclaiming the space between her legs, he paused and whispered, “Don’t worry, darling, I noted how much you can take without causing you harm. It’s not my first rodeo.”

Randi protested weakly, but did nothing to hinder him from slipping back inside her. She lay back, arms over her head. “Alright then, show me what you’ve got.”

He thrust inside her, careful not to drive too deep. He had plans for her lovely body, none of which involved her suffering damage. One hand around the base of his John Thomas, he stroked himself as he fucked her, intent on getting off as quickly as possible. His thoughts strayed to his plans for the rest of the evening and that was the fuel he needed. A few more thrusts tipped him over the edge, filling the condom.

Crowley pulled back and flopped onto the bed beside her. “Shall we tag Dean in to pick up where we left off?”

In response, Randi picked up another condom from the bedside table and waved it in Dean’s general direction. Dean wasted no time in stripping off his boxers and suiting up. Crowley removed his, and got up to discard it. He then took the time to clean himself up before slipping back into his red satin pants.

Not bothering with any of the rest of his clothing, he sat in Dean’s vacated seat and watched as Randi took a turn riding Dean. She had no problem accommodating his length, so rode him with every evidence of enjoyment. Again, Crowley would have sat back and enjoyed the live porn had it been anyone else. Instead, he opened his mouth and smoked out of his favourite meatsuit — foregoing his usual showy style in favour of stealth — and into the lovely Randi.

Settling into the fresh meat, he could feel its true occupant fluttering in the back of his head, and he was reminded anew why he preferred dead meat. He directed his thoughts at the terrified soul, _“Yes, you’re now a passenger in your own body, I’m a demon, and so is the fellow that your delicious body is still riding. Here’s the deal - you don’t raise a fuss and I make this extraordinarily good for you. You’ll still be able to feel everything, you simply won’t be the one driving. When we’re done, I’ll vacate the premises, leaving you delightfully sated, which was what you wanted.”_

He couldn’t help but feel impressed when the girl quietly asked, _“What sort of guarantee do I have that you’ll leave afterwards?”_

_“You don’t. Here’s the thing, though. I can take what I want. I didn’t need to ask your permission to enter your magnificent flesh, and I don’t need your cooperation in order to continue to enjoy it. That said, I happen to enjoy a willing, eager partner. You never would have believed me if I’d asked first, so I’m asking now. For what it’s worth, I give you my word. When we’re done, you get your meatsuit back and we’ll go our separate ways.”_

_“So, to be clear, I still get Dean fucking my brains out, but you’re the one controlling my body. Fuck. Why am I even considering this? I should be screaming at you to get the fuck out.”_

_“Think of it as a form of restraint. Ever wanted to be tied up or handcuffed while someone else takes care of all the work of pleasing you? Same thing here.”_

_“Fuck. That’s hotter than it has any right to be. Goddammit, don’t make me regret coming here.”_

_“Oh, you can be certain of it.”_

While his thoughts addressed the body’s rightful inhabitant, he had continued to move. Only once he had Randi’s reluctant agreement did he permit his eyes to flash red. His borrowed lips curved up in a smirk and one delicate hand reached down to tweak Dean’s nipple.

Showing every sign of enjoying the treatment he received, Dean shook his head. “Unbelievable. You couldn’t have just joined in?”

“Could have,” replied Crowley in Randi’s rich, playful tones, “but where’s the fun in that? This way, we all get what we want. Whatever we do, the lovely Randi still gets to experience.”

So saying, he snatched up Dean’s hat off the pillow and put it on. “Don’t tell me you’re not enjoying this.”

Raising his eyebrows slightly, Dean gave wordless approval to the hat. “I mean, either way I get a hot chick riding my dick, but you’d better be as eager as she was.”

Crowley smirked, fully aware of how deliciously familiar, yet different, the expression would look with Randi’s plush lips. “If you were at all perceptive, you’d know that’s not likely to be an issue.”

“Uh huh, so can you get on with fuckin’ me already?” asked Dean.

Though he had been moving slowly, Crowley came to a stop and deliberately tightened around Dean’s cock, then relaxed and said, “The thing is, for all that Randi tried to maintain full control over this entire evening, turns out she very much enjoys the notion of being restrained. I have her fully aware but unable to do anything to influence the proceedings, but I dare say, I think she might enjoy it if you were to take control.”

Dean reached up and cupped Randi’s breasts in his hands, stroking her nipples to firmness with his thumbs. “Tell you what,” he replied, “you ride me hard until you get off again, and then we’ll see.”

From the tiny little corner in the back of her own mind, Randi said, _“He didn’t need to know that!”_

Crowley didn’t bother to respond, choosing to instead do as he was told. Angling Randi’s pelvis, he rocked his borrowed hips back and forth until he found her sweet spot. The spark of desire he felt was kindled once more, growing with each brush of Dean’s cock against that most perfect erogenous zone.

He rode Dean with shorter thrusts, never allowing complete penetration. He didn’t need all of Dean’s cock, just the first few inches. The fire of need built inside him, growing with every touch. Dean’s hands roamed over his borrowed flesh in a way they never had Crowley’s, and for a moment, Crowley allowed himself the fantasy that he was alone in that body.

He was so close. Panting and moaning, Crowley raised up and ground down hard, driving Dean’s cock deep and rubbing Randi’s clit with each thrust. Increasing his pace, he chased after elusive pleasure until it crested and culminated in a brief instant of bliss.

Nethers still fluttering with delicious ebbing pulses, Randi said, _“Fuck, that was good.”_

Crowley allowed a hint of a smile to grace her lips and replied, _“And we’re not done. I plan to ride you hard and put you away wet.”_

A wordless moan echoed within the mind they shared, leaving Crowley no doubt as to the cooperativeness of his reluctant host. Turning his attention outward once more revealed Dean watching him expectantly. He seemed to be waiting, so Crowley took off Dean’s cowboy hat, set it back on the pillow and said, “Well, Mister Bull, did I stay on long enough? Are you prepared to unseat me?”

The words came out in Randi’s luscious voice with her North Dakota accent. Dean appeared to consider it, then lifted Crowley by his currently shapely hips and slid out from underneath, nudging Randi’s left leg over to join her right. Releasing his grip, Dean said, “Lie down. On your back.”

Complying, Crowley reveled in the little shiver that passed through him at Dean’s command. Draping Randi’s arms above her head, Crowley stretched out, then squirmed a little, fully aware of how that looked. Sure enough, Dean gazed hungrily and wasted no time in positioning himself between Randi’s legs.

Running his hands up and down Randi’s body, he paused to once more cup her breasts, leaning down to swirl his tongue over a nipple. His hands continued up while his tongue licked and flicked, fingers skating over soft arms. As he moved further up, he kissed and nipped her neck and earlobe while his hands then encircled Randi’s small wrists, pinning her to the bed. Though he held and enjoyed Randi’s body, Dean then addressed Crowley in whisky-rough tones, “I know I’m stronger than her, and without any funny tricks, I’m stronger than you, too. So, if you try anything that ain’t plain old human struggling, I’m ditching you.”

It was no more than Crowley had expected, and yet, it was still a thrill to hear. Gently testing Dean’s grip, Crowley slipped into a sultry smile. “Why would I want to do that? You have me right where I want me.”

And again, from what should have been the silence of his mind, came Randi’s voice. _“Not that I don’t love this, but I’ve orgasmed twice now. Shouldn’t one of you use some lube? I don’t wanna be sore tomorrow.”_

_“Pay attention, sweetheart,”_ Crowley silently replied. _“Don’t you feel yourself sinfully wet? One of the many pleasures of being a demon is having absolute bodily control over one’s chosen flesh.”_

There was blessedly no response, so he was able to give Dean his full attention. Smirking, Dean wasted no time. He shifted both of Randi’s wrists to one hand and used his other to guide his cock to Randi’s slick hole, teasing with the tip before slipping just the head between her soft folds.

Crowley hadn’t anticipated Dean taking his time. What with Dean asking to be ridden hard, Crowley thought Dean would do the same when given the chance. Instead, he kept Crowley pinned with one hand and lightly stroked himself with the other, barely penetrating as he thrust in and out.

After what felt like an eternity, Dean thrust a little deeper, and Crowley’s borrowed body yearned for more. Twisting in Dean’s grip, Crowley wrapped Randi’s legs around Dean’s back in an attempt to bring him closer without breaking the rules laid down. Dean grinned and pulled back out, then once more penetrating with only the head of his cock.

Inside their shared body, Randi flitted about, trying to exert control over any part of her body. _“Oh fuck, that isn’t enough! Move, god damn you! Fuck me already! ”_

Rather than irritate, Randi’s helpless flailing demands for more stoked the flames of desire in Crowley. Not that he needed anyone to encourage him to desire Dean, but letting go of control was difficult, and a voice in his head begging for something he already wanted was helpful. As such, he gave voice to Randi’s words, on behalf of them both. “More, damn you!”

Dean stopped and rubbed his cock up over Randi’s clit and down again, teasing with the sensation of _almost but not enough_. A self-satisfied smile curved Dean’s lips and he said, “Ah ah ah, that’s no way to ask nicely.”

Practically panting with need, Crowley said, “Bloody hell, would you _please_ fuck me already?”

“Close enough,” replied Dean and he slid inside slowly, filling Randi inch by inch until he was sheathed to the hilt, then set up a steady rhythm.

It was the first time Dean was fully inside Crowley, even if it wasn’t Crowley’s own body. The other way around, sure, they had done that twice, but this was something new. Crowley ceased his struggles and tried to tilt Randi’s hips for the best possible angle, but Dean was having none of it, pinning her hips with the hand not on her wrists.

Maintaining his steady pace, Dean said, “This is fuckin’ awkward, so I’m gonna let go in a sec, but you’d better behave, or I’ll take what I want and leave you unfinished.”

The old Dean never would have followed through on such a threat, but the new Dean had no such qualms. Crowley stayed perfectly still and Dean released Randi’s hip while Randi said, _“No no no, don’t stop!”_

Ignoring her, Crowley didn’t move again until Dean reclaimed his other hand to better support himself and said, “No funny business.”

Crowley ran his borrowed hands down Dean’s back to grab his shapely buttocks, squeezing encouragement but not making any attempt to pull him closer, despite a strong desire to do so. Dean rewarded that by sliding a hand between them to rest a thumb on Randi’s clit. Moving his thumb in gentle circles timed with his thrusts, Dean then picked up the pace of both.

Both Randi and Crowley moaned, though only one was audible to Dean, so Crowley offered encouragement on her behalf. “Oh God, yes!”

The insistent desire for release grew more urgent, demanding satisfaction which hovered on the edge, so close but not close enough. Crowley had been determined to remain in control of himself, at least, but as he hung over the precipice of need, he gasped, “Dean, please!”

Pressing his thumb more firmly, Dean’s green eyes flicked demon black and he growled, “Now.”

The orgasm that pulsed through Crowley’s temporary flesh burst like fireworks, an explosion of sensation that rippled outward in waves. In the back of his shared head, Randi gasped, _“Oh fuck yesss!”_

The groan that escaped their lips could have come from either of them, but Crowley still held sole control of their shuddering body. He lay still, legs unwinding from around Dean, and felt the steadily slowing pulses of bliss fluttering around Dean’s cock which still thrust in and out. Dean’s thumb still moved in little circles over their clit, which soon brought twitching overstimulation on a level approaching painful, and still Crowley soaked it up.

There was a malicious glint in Dean’s eyes that would have looked horribly out of place on the old Dean. His thrusts grew erratic and he closed his eyes, sparing Crowley the sight of how much black-eyed Dean enjoyed causing pain. Pressing down just that much harder, Crowley gasped and Dean stiffened, groaning as his cock throbbed inside Randi’s protesting flesh.

Whimpering softly, Randi said, _“Well, that was fun until it wasn’t.”_

_“Not at all what I had in mind for you, I assure you,”_ Crowley replied, though it had definitely been educational. He had always known about Dean’s cruel streak, buried deep down inside, but had never expected it to manifest itself in such a way. _“Now that I know, if you’re interested in another round, I can keep him under control.”_

_“Would you, though? You seemed to be enjoying it.”_

He couldn’t argue with her assessment. _“I did, but you didn’t, and I’d much rather there were happy endings for all.”_

_“If it’s all the same to you,”_ said Randi, _“I think I’m all fucked out. Maybe in the morning, if you’re still around?”_

Interrupting their silent conversation, Dean withdrew, slick and wet, and flopped onto his back on the bed beside them. Without getting up, he yanked off his condom in a rubbery snap and tossed it in the bin, the squishy splat on crinkly plastic announcing that he’d made his shot. Breathing in deep, he exhaled a contented sigh, and ran his fingers over his hair. “This place have a hot tub? What do you say we go make a mess of the hot tub? Or the pool?”

Images of the hot tub at Sparky’s cabin flashed through Crowley’s mind and not for the first time he wondered if Dean had been deliberately ignoring him or merely wanted to sample the triplet buffet. Crowley was sorely tempted, but the offer was undoubtedly dependent on Randi’s participation, and Crowley had no desire to participate in anything with an unwilling meatsuit. Propping up on one elbow, Crowley held up an index finger, then splayed a hand on Dean’s chest and said, “Before we do anything else…”

He leaned in and kissed Dean softly, a tender, impulsive thing full of all the confusing emotions that had been churning inside him. In return, he received a languid, lazy kiss, almost an automatic response. From her corner in the back of his mind, Randi said, _“Oh sweetie, no. You’re only gonna get your heart broken.”_

_“Don’t you worry about me,”_ replied Crowley. _“I’m a big girl. I can take it.”_

Randi’s voice subsided, but the fact remained that he and Dean weren’t on the same page. Dean’s hand moved to cup Randi’s breast, which served as a timely reminder to Crowley to speed things up. With a strictly internal sigh, Crowley broke off their kiss and pulled away. “According to Randi, she’s all fucked out, but would be amenable to another round in the morning.”

“So?” replied Dean. “What do you care? Isn’t that body yours while you’re in there?”

Time was, Dean would never have dreamed of saying such a thing. Of course, that was before the Mark had turned him. For the most part, Dean was still Dean, but also with that special arsehole quality unique to the black-eyed bastards who routinely ruined Crowley’s day.

Slipping back into his usual smile, Crowley said, “If I wanted that sort of thing, I’d still be in Hell, wouldn’t I? So, if you’ll excuse me.”

Without waiting for Dean’s response, Crowley smoked back into his preferred meatsuit, sedating the body on his way out, leaving Randi to fall back on the bed. Still in nothing but his skivvies, Crowley called a glass of Craig to his hand. Over on the bed, Dean nudged Randi’s shoulder, and when she didn’t move, he actually pouted.

“Dammit Crowley, I coulda talked her ‘round. Now what am I supposed to do?”

Crowley took a sip of his Scotch before answering. “Just because _she’s_ done doesn’t mean _we_ have to be done. I’d be more than happy to go another round, darling. I don’t believe this place has a pool, but that doesn’t mean we can’t go elsewhere.”

“Yeah?” countered Dean. “Where, genius?”

Shrugging, Crowley replied, “The triplets said next weekend, correct? So, we’re at loose ends for the next week. You want an abundance of beer and women with low expectations and lower self-esteem, so we hit the road. What say you to a road trip? Drive to Wisconsin, spend a few days sampling the local wildlife, then rendezvous back at The Black Spur for wish fulfillment part two.”

Visibly thinking it over, Dean then conceded with a sideways nod of his head and pursed lips. “Only a couple hours from here to Bismarck. Leave now and we can still hit up a bar there for an hour or two. And bonus, everyone should be good ‘n’ tipsy by the time we get there.”

Crowley nodded agreement, then set down his glass, picked up his clothes, and teleported into them. It was easily the most stupidly pointless time-saving trick that he would never get tired of. Dean looked at him with raised eyebrows, then slowly and deliberately put on his boxer briefs one leg at a time.

Once he had reclaimed his glass, Crowley walked over to Randi and touched two fingers to her forehead. It was a simple matter to encourage her to sleep a little longer so she wouldn’t wake up until they were gone.

While Dean was still pulling on his jeans, Crowley teleported to the hotel’s front desk where the night clerk was still scrolling through his social media. For maximum annoyance purposes, when the night clerk failed to notice him right away, Crowley dinged the little bell. The way the man jumped in his seat was immensely satisfying.

“My most sincere apologies for dragging you away from whatever is so riveting, but I would like to settle the bill for room 104,” said Crowley, taking his platinum Amex card from his pocket and sliding it across the counter. “Kindly tell the lady that the bill is taken care of, no strings attached.”

The night clerk took his card with a disinterested “Uh huh” and spent the next minute or so typing and clicking various things until the printer disgorged a piece of paper for him to sign. Crowley noted with a measure of satisfaction that his message was included on the invoice, so Randi would definitely receive it.

No sooner did he finish signing than Dean rounded the corner, fully dressed with his cowboy hat on his head and another in his hand, which he placed on Crowley’s head as he said, “Saddle up, cowgirl. Time to hit the trails.”

So perhaps Dean backslid a tad. So what? All it meant was that he’d need to look into a way to appease the Mark of Cain. Surely that would buy him the time to sort things out. In the meantime, there was a bar with their names on it, and most definitely a hotel with a pool at the end of the night. Things were looking up.

**Author's Note:**

> This has been on my "to write" list for months. I had the idea back in February before I was even finished with Waffling, but I had too many other things on my plate to even start it until August. I didn't manage to finish it before starting on my Crowley Big Bang, so it was again relegated to the back burner. It's been in the works for so long, you have no idea what a relief it is to type this.
> 
> For those of you who keep track, you can expect something from me for Coldest Hits later this month and my Crowley Big Bang at some point in December. When all of my current writing obligations are taken care of, I think I'll be looking at writing the next installment of A Man and His Dog to finish off Juliet's view of season 10.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who reads my stuff, but what I'd really appreciate from you are comments and kudos. If you tell me what you liked the most, chances are, I'll take that into consideration when writing more. Hell, I might even take requests, if they make sense within the context of the ongoing story. We're only halfway through Dean and Crowley's Summer of Love here, which means there's plenty of room to explore. Tell me what you liked and what you'd love to see and I'll see if we can make that happen.
> 
> And finally, if you're on Tumblr and feel like laughing at my struggle with words (or just want to join me in celebrating every Crowley Friday) I can be found there as @thayerkerbasy


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